Chapter 18 #2
Hyacinth had still been gone from Colorado when Jameson had gotten into a fight with Mr. Noble over his drinking and carousing.
The story Sterling told was that their father had accused Jameson of being worthless and not making anything of his life.
So Mr. Noble had given the young man an ultimatum: Shape up or find a new place to work and live.
The next morning, everyone had woken up to find that Jameson had left. No one knew where he’d gone or what he’d planned to do. They hadn’t heard from him since then.
Sterling had taken his middle brother’s leaving hard, had worried about him and missed him.
Of course, at twenty-four—or maybe twenty-five now—Jameson was old enough to take care of himself and make his own way in the world.
But that hadn’t made it any easier for the family as they’d wondered where he was.
Beckett didn’t seem all that surprised to see Jameson. That was strange.
The two shook hands. “Glad to see you.” Beckett scanned the young man who looked so much like Sterling.
“Glad to see you too,” Jameson said quietly.
“The foreman informed me that he hired you on the first day you showed up a few months ago.”
Hyacinth stiffened. Had Beckett known where Jameson was and kept it from the Noble family? Even from Sterling? If so, that was very insensitive of him.
“I’ve been drifting from place to place for a while.
” Jameson had a scruffy layer of facial hair and was dusty.
He’d probably been out on the range today with the men who’d been watching over the cattle, which accounted for why they hadn’t noticed him earlier when they’d arrived.
“But I like the Double T. It’s been a good place to work compared to some other ranches. ”
“Just glad it worked out.” Beckett’s suitcoat stretched across his back, showing off those big muscles and broad shoulders.
“Yep, it’s worked out real good.”
“Then reckon it’s time you let Sterling know where you are.”
Jameson’s brow furrowed. “Not sure I’m ready yet.”
“Maybe at least let Sterling know you’re okay. He’s been worried.”
“Yep, maybe.”
“No maybe about it,” Hyacinth said, unable to hold back any longer. “You need to let Sterling know you’re here. It will put his mind at ease.”
Jameson’s gaze shot to her on the portico next to Sunshine.
Beckett clamped Jameson’s shoulder. “That’s my wife, Hyacinth.”
“Ma’am.” Jameson tipped his hat at her, but from the twitch in his jaw, it was clear he didn’t like her.
“It’s the right thing to do.” She didn’t care if Jameson liked her or not. She was more concerned about Sterling getting the news after all these months that his brother was alive and well.
“Hyacinth is Violet’s sister,” Beckett offered. “You remember Violet, don’t you?”
“The bride who ran off on Sterling’s wedding day?”
“Yep. She came back late in the year, married Sterling, and is making him a real happy man.”
Jameson’s eyes rounded, but he didn’t say anything more. From the little Hyacinth remembered about the fellow, he was the quiet, brooding type who kept everything bottled up inside. At least, that was the impression she’d gotten the couple of times she’d met him.
If Jameson wasn’t ready to inform Sterling where he was at, Hyacinth would tell him herself when she and Beckett returned. Sterling would be relieved and grateful.
There was no way she could keep that news from him . . . unlike Beckett, who’d been able to hide Jameson’s location for months.
She narrowed her eyes on Beckett. How could he be so callous?
As Beckett walked with Jameson back to the barn, Hyacinth returned inside with Sunshine, who was staying the night and leaving tomorrow. The sweet woman hugged Hyacinth goodnight, and they both retired to their rooms.
When a maid had escorted Hyacinth to the room earlier in the day, she’d almost asked for separate rooms for herself and Beckett.
But she hadn’t wanted the staff to gossip and spread rumors about the nature of her marriage to Beckett.
Already, their playacting—except maybe that kiss at dinner—was terrible enough that people would question the authenticity of their marriage.
She couldn’t give the gossip more fuel. So she’d kept quiet about having her own room.
After all, she and Beckett had been sharing rooms since their wedding night. In fact, there hadn’t been a single night when they’d slept more than a few feet away from each other. She’d listened to his breathing, heard him tossing, and had been there when he’d experienced a nightmare.
The truth was, she wouldn’t have any trouble spending the remainder of the trip in close quarters with him, since he’d already proven to be considerate, decent, and respectful.
It was a beautiful room, boasting a large bed with a sheer white canopy across the top and hanging down the tall bed posts. With plush rugs, a cozy sitting area, and even a window nook, it was the kind of room that beckoned a person to stay for a while.
As she shed her clothing and put on her nightgown, she felt somehow different tonight.
Was it because he’d kissed her at dinner and the heat from their passion was still burning inside her?
Was it because they were at a home—and not in a hotel or train car—and their marriage felt more real?
Or was it because of the stipulations of the will that were requiring them to have a true marriage with children and a home?
She wasn’t sure, but as she lay in bed and waited for Beckett to make an appearance, she was afraid of what she’d do when he entered the room. That against her better judgment, she’d go to him, wrap her arms around him, and tug him down onto the bed with her.
The problem was that he would resist her and make her beg for another kiss.
Then he would gloat, and she would be even more humiliated than she already was and finally have to admit that she wanted him more than he did her.
That was why it had been so easy for him to bring up the annulment and why his rejection had stung.
Yes, she cared about Beckett. She’d tried for so long to deny that she liked him, but she did.
Plain and simple. As infuriating as he was sometimes, she loved his sparring, loved his sharp wit, loved his banter, loved his deep thoughts, loved his generosity, loved his loyalty, loved his protectiveness, loved his fierceness, loved his strength of character.
She loved so much about him, and the past weeks of traveling had only confirmed that.
Did she love him?
She pressed a hand to her chest and could feel her heart beating hard.
Had she somehow, over the past months, fallen in love with the man she’d thought she despised but, deep down, truly admired in so many ways?
Sunshine had insinuated that Beckett liked her too. But if he did, then why had he been able to cast aside their marriage and suggest the annulment so easily? If he cared about her even a little, wouldn’t he have wanted to stay with her?
Hyacinth closed her eyes. She couldn’t let herself hope for more with Beckett. Not when he’d discarded her all too easily earlier in the day.
She’d just started dozing when the door creaked open. Beckett stepped inside and quietly closed it behind him. Her back faced the door, but she could hear him cross to the bed and stop beside it.
What was he doing? What was he thinking?
All sleepiness evaporated, and she held herself motionless.
He expelled a sigh, then his footsteps tapped lightly away. At the soft slither of fabric, she guessed he was undressing, at least down to his trousers as was his habit.
The room was dark, but the open windows let in the breeze and enough moonlight to see a little bit. Did she dare roll over and peek at him and his beautiful chest?
No. She squeezed her eyes shut and gave herself a mental shake. She would only set herself up for additional rejection from him. And she couldn’t take any more.
She had to squelch all desire, and the fastest way to do that was by arguing. “You should have told Sterling about Jameson,” she said. “Any good friend would have done so.”